


Fifty Shades of Gwaine

by savethebeesknees



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BUt they also move fast, Best Friend Merlin, Drunk Gwaine, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Gwaine Flirts (Merlin), Jealous Gwaine, Light Angst, Maybe some light smut at some point just not now, Mordred is a good guy, Obnoxiously slow burn, Pining Gwaine (Merlin), Protective Gwaine (Merlin), Queen Gwen, Reader-Insert, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sir gwaine - Freeform, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, They move slow, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, flirty Gwaine, let's just pretend the season five finale didn't happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 08:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savethebeesknees/pseuds/savethebeesknees
Summary: This is a Gwaine/Reader fanfic.You, a modest yet well known painter, have been commissioned by the legendary King Arthur to paint portraits of the royal court. (That being him, his queen, and his Knights of the Round Table.)With such a large workload, you’ll be working exclusively for the king for months on end. In your time in the palace, you get to know the knights and many of those who live within the city walls. One knight in particular, however, continuously draws your attention: A dark haired rebel with a good heart. Sir Gwaine is the perfect gentleman and you can’t help but get excited every time he looks in your direction.
Relationships: Gwaine/Reader, Gwaine/Reader (romantic), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Knights/Reader (platonic), Merlin/Reader (Platonic)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

You were a renowned artist across the five kingdoms; famous to the rich and noble, friend to those in need. Most of what you earned was sent to feed your family who was wedged deep in a lone village on the outskirts of Camelot. It was the least you could do, seeing as you were constantly traveling from place to place depending on where you were needed next.

You began selling landscape paintings in order to make a quick coin, and, eventually, a few more well-off families had asked you to make small portraits for them. From there, your name had been passed around many towns and a few nobles had taken notice of your ability. As time continued, you were more often commissioned to paint portraits for nobility.

You had seen your fair share of stuck up nobles who treated you with a kindness that was not nearly as kind as they tried to seem. Still, you took every job you were offered, and never refused anyone – no matter their social standing or income. Sure, you had been paid fifty gold coins for the portrait of a knight yet merely some cloth for a portrait of a farmer’s daughter; to you they were of equal importance. The poor deserved to remember each other just as much as the rich did.

Never before, though, had you been offered a task so important as the one requested of you now:

You were beyond ecstatic when you received a request from the king of Camelot himself to paint a few portraits of his knights and himself. Of course, you would be greatly compensated for the work (more so than ever before), but the request itself brought happiness to you and your family unparalleled to anything you’d ever felt before.

With a bounce in your step, you were strolling through Camelot’s gates a mere two days after receiving the letter. In your hurry, you had thrown together a single pack, filled with the brushes and paints you had managed to acquire through your travels, and a single red dress that would be worn on special occasions. That was the only article of clothing you could afford to bring with your limited space – aside from the work dress you were currently traveling in.

As you strolled through the streets of the city, you were in awe of the colorful stalls that lined the cobblestone road. Vibrant fabrics, fresh fruits, children playing and weaving through the crowd, it embodied a kingdom truly at peace. Your meandering, however, was cut short when a young child ran up to you and hid behind your legs.

“Well, hello,” You cooed at the young boy. His hair was a caramel brown and disheveled from playing. He looked as if he had barely turned seven, “What are you doing back there?”

You tried to turn around, but he was gripping your skirt so that he would move as you do.

“Don’t let him find me,” The child begged, and protective instincts began kicking in. If someone was after this child, you would not let them get anywhere near him.

“Who are you hiding from?” You ask, scanning the people in the surrounding area and trying to cover the boy up more. He poked his head out from behind you briefly, and pointed at a dark-haired man with stubble in chain mail and a red cape – A knight.

You nodded as the knight made eye contact with you and came your way, smiling with a bounce in his step.

“Excuse me, my lady, have you seen a young boy run by?” He asked, his voice deceitfully kind for someone after a child.

“I haven’t seen anyone,” You roll your shoulders back so that you were puffing out your chest in an attempt to make yourself look bigger and more serious.

“Are you sure?” His hands were clasped behind his back and he bounced on the balls of his feet. “I’m sure I saw him run this way; he’s always chasing the beauties of the city. And, my lady, I would definitely consider you a beauty.”

You looked at the cocky knight quizzically, “Did you check down that alley? I’m sure I saw someone darting down that way.” You were avoiding his flirtatious comment, only focused on the kid gripping your skirt.

The knight seemed to consider your offer, but a small giggle erupted from behind you.

“Ah,” The man smirked at you, “Yes you are right, maybe James went back to hide the treasure he stole from Ms. Seward’s kitchen in his hideout.”

He feigned walking away, which had you fooled for a moment. Your breath hitched – though – as he abruptly turned and, reaching around you, grabbed the child and swung him through the air. The blood roaring in your ears drowned out the two’s laughter, and you reacted by swiftly plucking James away from the knight and holding him in your arms.

“Are you so cruel as to hunt a child for petty thievery?” You cry out, holding him farther away from the knight. “If he stole food, he must need it. Let me pay for whatever it is that he took.”

The grin fell from the knight’s face, “What are you on about?”

“You-You’re trying to arrest the child for stealing, but this is a simple fix as I said I am willing to pay whatever the price is for his crime.” You jut your chin out defiantly at the man, and you watch as laughter bubbled from his lips.

“James what did you tell this woman?” He cackles, reaching for James, “Miss, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Well, then explain it to me before I just let you take him.” You refused to let him near James still, worried it was some ruse.

“James and I stole a pan of pastries from the head chef in the palace. The brat ran off with the last one that we were going to _share_ -“ he sent a pointed look at James, “-and it turned into a game of hide and seek.”

You let out a quiet ‘ooh’ and set James down. The boy immediately skipped over to the knight, and you had to keep yourself from slapping yourself on the forehead. Of course, it was just a game, not every place is as corrupt as you previously observed.

“I do admire your protecting the kid, though.” The knight said as he extends and open palm to you, “I’m Gwaine, by the way.”

“Y/N,” You take his hand, and he presses a chaste kiss to your knuckle.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

James pretended to gag at the gesture and ran away from the scene, “Thanks for playing, Sir Gwaine, but I’ve got to go be somewhere less gross now!”

And with that he disappeared through the crowd.

“I’m sorry for assuming you were trying to arrest a seven-year-old.” You adjust the pack on your back and attempt to hide your embarrassment over the whole ordeal behind your hair. Your cheeks were surely tinted pink.

“It’s quite alright, Lady Y/N.” Gwaine bites his lip to hide a smile, “It’s good to know there’s someone looking after the tiny troublemakers.”

You let out a giggle at his response and begin to resume your trek towards the palace, “Someone has to.”

“I assume, by your response, that you’re somewhat of a troublemaker yourself.” Gwaine laughs as he falls into step with you, “Or, at least, a retired one.”

“Let’s just say I know a thing or two about escaping authority, so keep that in mind if you try anything funny.”

He chuckles and holds his hands up in surrender, “You have my word as a gentleman that I won’t try anything funny…

… Unless you want me to.” He leans in and whispers that last part to you. You are forced to quicken your pace so that he won’t see that the previously pink hue adorning your cheeks has gone to a bright red.

“No thank you,” Your voice is two octaves higher than it was before, “I am quite alright for now, now if you’ll excuse me –”

Basically, jogging at this point, you reach the palace much faster than you had anticipated. As you approach the entrance, you are met by King Arthur waiting with four knights by his side, as well as his wife and servant. You couldn’t help but be surprised that he would go to such lengths for a humble painter. You hardly had time to compose your heavy breathing before the king began descending down the stone stairs towards you. You dipped into a low curtsey as the queen followed, waiting for the two of them to address you before speaking.

“Welcome to Camelot, Lady Y/N.” King Arthur’s voice was warm and soothing, nothing like what you expected. You’ve heard that he was a kind and just king, but assumed you would be facing a drunken old man who was more positively ignorant than kind. To be fair, you had never been to Camelot before, and had never met anyone – aside from Gwaine now – from the great kingdom. You gathered what you could from other drunken rich men and assumed they were biased in their retellings. But no – the man who stood before you now held no resemblance to the other noble you had had the _pleasure_ of working with.

“Your Highness,” You bowed your head, “I am truly honored to be at your service. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Yea, so you were kind of playing it up a bit for the king, but you learned that buttering up nobles made them tip a little more.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He smiled and it was blinding, “May I introduce you to my wife, Guinevere – she is a _very_ big fan of your work. She’s positively obsessed with your landscapes.”

Queen Guinevere elbowed her husband in the side while grinning at you, “I’m not _obsessed_ , though I will admit that I am a big fan. Your color schemes and brush details make the pictures seem more like realty than reality itself. I insisted that my husband commission you the moment he told me he needed to get some portraits done.”

You couldn’t help the enormous smile that broke out across your face. A _queen_ was complimenting your paintings in such a way that your heart nearly burst with joy. “I thank you, my Lady. I am unbelievably ecstatic that you enjoy my work.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” She winked, “My praise does not fall on someone undeserving of it. I do hope we can become friends during your stay, though.”

It took a moment to wipe the shocked expression from your face. You had never been greeted with such humility into a place like this. Every smile seemed genuine, nothing like the ones that were faked by many noble members of society.

“Merlin will show you to your room, and I invite you to dine with the knights and I tonight so that you may get to know a few friendly faces and – Gwaine where have you been?” King Arthur clapped a hand on the knight’s shoulder as he approached him.

“I was caught up in the beautiful sights the city has to offer nowadays.” Gwaine replied, shooting a wink in your direction.

You looked away from the pair and took your time to observe the knights who were still waiting on the stairs. You tried to focus on them, but you couldn't help watching the king and Sir Gwaine from your peripheral. 

“Well, I hope that view was worth organizing the armory and helping Merlin polish said armor before dinner tonight.” King Arthur beamed at the knight, who looked nonetheless pleased than he was earlier.

“Aye captain, whatever you say almighty King of Camelot.” Gwaine pat the king on the shoulder and bounded up the stairs into the palace. As he reached the doors, though, he turned and caught you watching him. You didn’t realize your eyes had fully strayed back to him, but you watched as his mouth quirked up slightly and he disappeared from your sight.

“Forgive me, Lady Y/N.” King Arthur apologized, coming to stand next to his wife once again, “As I was saying this would give you a chance to meet the mugs you will be painting beforehand.”

“That sounds like wonderful, Your Majesty,” You tear your eyes away from the door Gwaine disappeared through to smile at the king.

“Allow Merlin to take your bag, and, forgive me, but I must get ready for the feast and tend to an unruly knight.”

“Of course,” You chuckle and bow into a parting curtsey as the king returns the gesture before retreating into the castle with the knights in tow.

You turn towards the servant, Merlin, as he nervously introduces himself. “I’m Merlin, m’lady. I can take your bag and show you where you’ll be staying.”

You relinquish your hold on the bag and grinned at him, “Thank you, Merlin. You can call me Y/N, though. I’m not much of a lady.”

“You seem every part of a lady when you talk to Arthur and Gwen, though.” He said with a slight airier tone, and begins climbing the stairs.

“Isn’t that how you’re supposed to speak to a king and queen?” You ask as you follow him through the palace, trying to take note of the turns he’s taking so you don’t get lost when you’re walking through later.

“I don’t know,” Merlin admitted, laughing lightly, “If you ask Arthur, I’m the worst man-servant ever.”

“Yet, you haven’t been sacked, so he must like you.”

“It’s just because he knows he wouldn’t survive a single day without me,” Merlin stops at a wooden door and glances back at you, eyes twinkling with a joke you didn’t understand, “Here we are.”

As Merlin opens the door, you feel as if the oxygen has been sucked out of the air around you. It was much grander than any room you had ever been given before.

“This is amazing!” You squeal and run past Merlin into the room. The dark, oak bedframe looked elegant with white sheets and a table by an open window that was already covered in various paints, brushes, and canvases.

“The king and queen insisted on making sure you have every supply you could possibly need for the project.” Merlin informed you and you couldn’t help but beam at the table.

“This is more than I could ever need,” You sigh, dreamily.

“I think they felt bad asking you to do so many paintings all in one period. There’s the portraits of the five knights, the single portrait of the queen, the portrait of the king and queen, and then the larger painting with all the knights and the king and queen.” Merlin paused, “How long do you think you’ll be working on them?”

You calculated your answer, drawing from previous project times and prep time, before answering, “However long the king and queen allow me to, to be frank. It will take me nearly three months to finish all the portraits, another two months – maybe more – for the final painting. That’s not including time for a margin of error.”

“Well, Y/N, I look forward to getting to know you over the next few months. But, for now, I’ll let you get settled and ready for dinner.” And with that, he excused himself and slipped out the door as you turned to gawk at the new paints.


	2. The Armory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re a famous painter who is commissioned to paint portraits for King Arthur and the knights of the round table. However, you become infatuated with one knight in particular during your stay. Which, obviously, has some complications given your situation.  
> \-----  
> The reader is getting ready for the feast with the king and his knights, but gets lost in the palace along the way.

After Merlin had left the room, you took your time unpacking what little belongings you brought with you. You hung your single dress up in the empty wardrobe in the corner, unloaded your paints onto the table with the other supplies, and set a vial of honeysuckle cologne on the vanity that you missed in your initial sweep of the room. The cologne was payment from a young couple who had asked for a small family portrait with their newborn baby girl, and it was something you had treasured greatly.

You had just finished sorting through your items, when there was a light rapping on the door. You called out, telling the person there that they could enter, and were shocked to see Queen Guinevere gliding through the doorway.

“Your majesty,” You gasped and practically fell into a low curtsey, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You need not speak so formally to me,” She commented with a small smile.

“I don’t mean to offend you if I have, your majesty,” You wrung your hands together nervously, “I’m just unsure of how to address royalty.”

“I may be married to a king,” She grasps your hands in an attempt to calm your nerves, “But I am still a blacksmith’s daughter at heart. You can call me Gwen, though. Like I said earlier, I would like to become friends during your stay.”

“Th-thank you, Gwen.” You feel the tension rolling off your shoulders at her words; the (irrational) fear that this stay would be unbearable beginning to melt away.

She changed the subject with a gesture around the room, “I hope everything is to your liking.”

“It’s amazing!” You sigh, taking another dreamy glance at the paints, “I am beyond grateful for the supplies. I brought my own, but these are of much higher quality.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Gwen began to walk towards the table of supplies, and you followed her movements, “I was worried that you wouldn’t have enough for each piece, so if you should ever need more just let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

“There’s no need! I can buy them myself; I wouldn’t want to impose,” You sheepishly added the last part, avoiding the queen’s gaze.

“Nonsense,” She gestured towards the chair by the table for you to sit down – you obeyed. “My husband and I are asking you for many months’ worth of work. The least we can do is supply you with the paint for it.” She finished as she sat across from you.

You observe the queen with a careful gaze. She is as beautiful as people have said, and much more generous than you could ever imagine someone of her social standing to be.

After a moment of carefully conducting your words, you say, “I must admit, I’m not sure how to respond to your kindness. No other patron has been so accommodating to my needs; none have even come close to you.” You still weren’t sure if you should be grateful of their giving nature, or weary.

“I’m sure you’ll find that Camelot is much more… gracious… towards its people than some other kingdoms,” Gwen smiled off into the distance in a way that showed she was remembering something darker than she let on, “At least it is nowadays.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” You look down at your lap, where your hands are carefully folded.

“I will stop bothering you now,” She grinned, snapping out of her past trance, “and leave you to get ready. Do you need a maid to help you dress?”

“No! No, I’m perfectly able to dress myself, thank you though.” You wave your hands around the air, not wanting to have anyone see you undressed. “I’ve never had a maid, and I’m not sure how comfortable I am with someone seeing me in such a vulnerable state.”

“That’s completely understandable. Though, if you ever choose to change your mind or would like an assistant in your painting, I’m sure we have an extra pair of hands we can spare.” The queen gave you a dazzling smile and opened the door. Before leaving, however, she turned back to you, stating, “The feast will begin in an hour.”

“Thank you, your High- Gwen.”

She smiled, and just as elegantly as she came in, she left.

It took no time at all to get dressed into the velvety, red gown that you brought with you. It was a nice fabric in a plain style; nothing special about the thing, but it was significantly better than the brown work dress you had shown up in. At least, somewhat better than what you showed up in.

After you were dressed, you sat in front of the vanity, attempting to tame your hair into something that was moderately presentably. Eventually, you settle on braiding a section of it and pinning it behind your ear. Then, dabbing some of the honeysuckle cologne on your neck, you deemed yourself ready to go – and with time to spare.

With that extra time, you decided you’d get to know the castle better by going off on your own to explore. You slipped out of your chambers and began to head towards the west side of the palace. However, the place was practically a maze; every new hallway looked identical to the last. The only thing that kept you from thinking you were going in circles were the different guards stationed at the end of every corridor.

After ten minutes of wandering around aimlessly, you approached a door that was slightly ajar. Without thinking much of it you pushed the door open, hoping to find something interesting. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as you would have hoped, just a standard armory. You know, the kind with armor and weapons. Yea that kind of armory.

You were about to turn to leave so that you could go find the room where the feast was being held, when a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks:

“Leaving so soon?” You looked to where the voice was coming from, and you found Sir Gwaine sitting in the corner of the room; his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and a rag was draped across his right shoulder.

You gaped at him like a fish, unsure how to respond to your intrusion.

“I can twirl around if you want to get a better look,” he looked up at you with the very smirk he had already given you twenty times today. It caused your stomach to flip, and you hated it.

“So this is the punishment for an unruly knight?” you ask, recovering with a teasing tone in your voice to hide your nerves.

“No this is reserved for me alone,” Sir Gwaine set down his rag and the sword he was polishing, stood up, and began walking towards you. “The others don’t typically spend the day goofing off in the village to avoid training.”

“Ah,” you nod and move deeper into the room, taking your time to look at the different swords and weapons that line the walls. “Seems to me like you deserve it. What kind of knight doesn’t even show up to training – isn’t that the only thing you really have to do during times of peace?”

“The kind of knight who happened to meet a beautiful lady on his way back to the palace.” he trailed you as you strolled around the perimeter of the room. You were making an effort to move agonizingly slow in an attempt to annoy him. It didn’t seem like he minded, though.

“Don’t blame me,” You pause to look at him, a coy smile playing across your lips. “You were playing hooky long before you met me.”

“Perhaps I knew I was destined to meet you in that square. Perhaps you called out to me like a siren and I was spent to look for you aimlessly. Lucky for me I found you eventually.”

“A siren?” you glance down at your legs, “I think that’s a bit of a stretch seeing as I’m not part fish, sir.”

“Ah, but your inhuman beauty has me believing otherwise, my fair lady!” He quickly bounded in front of you, causing you to place your hand on your heart.

“You flatter me too much,” You jokingly scoff, “I have half a mind to label you a heartbreaker on the spot.”

“Me? A heartbreaker?” He looks at you incredulously. As the words left your lips, you realized just how true they really were. Someone so smooth, so handsome, and a knight? He was beautiful and he knew it; the type to leave a string of weeping girls in his wake.

“Yes you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to attend a banquet-dinner-thing,” You start to walk past him, suddenly disappointed to end the conversation that seemed to be going so well. 

Little did you know, he was watching as you walked away, wishing he could think of something – anything – to say that would make you stay and laugh with him. For he suddenly found your laugh to be the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Sorry the first two parts aren't very long I'm still working on plot and length.


	3. The Feast and Then Some

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re a famous painter who is commissioned to paint portraits for King Arthur and the knights of the round table. However, you become infatuated with one knight in particular during your stay. Which, obviously, has some complications given your situation.  
> \----  
> It's time for the feast with King Arthur and his Knights. Hopefully the butterflies in your stomach dissipate during dinner.

In escaping Sir Gwaine and the butterflies, which happened to invade your stomach the two times you seemed to meet him, you were left wandering around the corridors and guessing at which direction to take. Usually, you were never left without a “guide” when you were commissioned for noble families. You did suspect, though, that was more for their comfort than yours. In other words, they wanted to make sure you didn’t have sticky fingers and steal something from them.

“I should’ve asked him where to go,” You mumbled to yourself after taking another wrong turn, leading you back to the entrance of your room. “I’m such an _absolute imbecile_.”

“That seems rather harsh,” A familiar voice piped up. You glanced over to where Merlin was leaning against your bedroom door, apparently you hadn’t noticed him standing there. Probably too distraught at having gone around in a giant circle to take notice of the serving boy waiting for you.

“Oh, thank goodness,” You breathed a sigh of relief, “Can you tell me how to get to the banquet hall, I had to have been wandering around for _hours_. How late am I?”

“You’ve only been walking around for the last forty-five minutes according to the guards that saw you leave,” He chuckled, “And, consequently, you’re only about ten minutes late.”

You cringed, realizing you could have just asked the guards stationed in every hallway where to go. “I gather that this won’t be a very good first impression, will it?”

Merlin pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping a finger on his chin in faux thought. “I’d say it makes you more fashionably late.” He grinned at you after making his decision on what to say.

“Well then, good sir,” You exaggerated your voice into an overdramatic, posh accent, “Would you do me the absolute _honor_ of being my escort to such a _prestigious_ event?”

“Of course, Madam,” Merlin attempted a deep bow but wavered, making it look more like he was stumbling. When he arose, his face was plastered with a lopsided, goofy grin, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him.

After taking a moment to compose yourselves, he juts out his elbow for you to take. Which you accepted by linking your arm through his. It wasn’t so much of a dainty hold, rather than having your arms hooked together by the elbows. It was friendlier that way, you thought, made it feel more equal.

“Who all will be there again?” You asked him as you approached a grand door that you could only assume was where the feast would be held.

“Just the king, the queen, the five knights of the round table, my mentor Gaius, and your favorite person in the world and savior. Just a hint that’s me, Merlin.”

“I’m so glad you’ve claimed that title for yourself, Merlin.” You grin, “Without that clue I would have never known who my favorite person in the world is.”

“All in a day’s work, my fair lady.” The two of you stopped in front of the ornate doors of the throne room, turned banquet hall, and waited for the guards to allow you to enter.

“Before we go in, I must ask,” You tugged on his arm slightly, “If you’re my favorite, then am I yours?”

“Well,” He sucked in a breath and cocked his head to the side, “I’m afraid that has to go to Gwaine right now, I promised him he would be for the week.”

“Next week then?”

“No good, reserved for Leon.” The guards had started to open the doors for you now.

“Put me at the next available week and then let me know,” You chuckled before the two of you were finally entering the room you had searched an eternity for. Okay, it wasn’t really an eternity – it wasn’t even an hour, but it was long enough to make you elated to finally be inside.

“Ah, finally Merlin has finally done something useful,” King Arthur exclaims, standing as he sees the both of you, “Welcome, again, Lady Y/N, to Camelot. We are excited to have you here.” The rest of the room following suit to stand as their king did.

“I am very excited to be here,” You announce with a grin as you approach the open seat next to the queen that King Arthur had gestured to. As delicately as you could, you took to your seat while the rest of the room took theirs as well.

“I hope your room is to your satisfaction.” King Arthur spoke as Merlin bounced over to fill his goblet.

“It is amazing, your majesty. I thank you for accommodating me so well.”

The queen, Gwen, responded while Arthur was taking a sip of the wine that was just poured. “It’s no problem. We have more than enough space.”

“Plus,” King Arthur added after, “You are forced to look at my men’s mangey faces for months on end. I feel as though I should be _apologizing_ for asking you to do this.”

You simply laugh at his words along with the few surrounding you, as you take a chance to look over the men that were sharing the banquet with you.

The seven men (including Merlin and Gaius) that the king trusted the most were in this room. It sounded like so few people to trust fully as a ruler, but at the same time the knights made the grand room feel full. Their laughter echoing off the walls, the way they threw themselves around while telling stories and joking about. It seemed like they were more like a family than just a king and his knights.

Glancing around, you took notice of one closest to you who seemed a little less comfortable than the others. The boy was quite a bit younger than the rest of them, and you even. He had dark, wavy hair and the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen. He wore the same chainmail and cape as the knights - he wore the uniform well. Yet, you could tell he felt slightly left out. Maybe he was the last to join their circle, maybe his age made him somehow separate from them. Maybe he was a secret agent that works for the moon, you never know.

Next to the boy, was an extremely tall man. His arms, apparently too large for the chainmail, were bare and looked like they could tear boulders in half. His hair was cropped close to his scalp, and his face looked as though it was sculpted of stone. If you hadn’t seen him here, smiling and laughing boisterously with the others, you would think him a brutal, frightening man.

You continued observing each of the men in the room. The knight with a mop of curly hair, the one who struck a striking resemblance to Gwen, the old man with locks of white hair and eyes that drooped, and, finally, your eyes fell to Gwaine. The way he threw his head back when he laughed, and how his hair seemed to blow in some imaginary wind. Funnily enough you also heard angels singing which was weird?

As if Gwaine sensed your eyes on him, he stifled his laughter and looked in your direction. He had no shocked reaction to finding your gaze already lingering on him, in fact, he seemed pleased to know that he had drawn your attention. You were sitting almost directly across the table from him, so it was an easy enough excuse to say you had zoned out and your eyes happened to rest on him. But the excuse was (already) futile, especially when you had no way to explain yourself in the loud room.

“He has been looking at you all night,” Gwen leaned over and whispered to you.

“Who?” You tore your eyes away from Gwaine to look over at the queen.

“Sir Gwaine,” She stated, “I think he’s been showing off a bit more than usual, too. Perhaps he has a little crush on our lovely painter.”

Your cheeks flamed up at her words, “Surely not. We’ve barely met.”

“But you have met?” She took a sly sip at her own wine and looked at you from the corner of her eyes. You could tell by the way her lips quirked into a small grin that she was enjoying teasing you. You, in a less dignified manner, began opening and closing your mouth like a fish choking on air.

“He saw… saw me in the town square. We just kind of introduced ourselves from there.” Your neck and ears began heating up with your words. They weren’t lies, but it wasn’t the full truth. It’s not even like you had met in a scandalous way, either. You – for whatever reason – just couldn’t seem to bring up exactly how you had met. Maybe the embarrassment of how you’d wrongfully accused him of trying to arrest a child had been more brutal than you thought, or maybe it was the way he shamelessly flirted with you and how that made you run away. Who knows?

The queen just let out a knowing hum before her focus was drawn away by King Arthur starting a conversation about something that seemed important. You drowned out their words, and once again, looked back towards Sir Gwaine’s, now empty, chair.

Puzzled, you looked up and down the long table, wondering where he might have moved but he was nowhere in sight. You grumbled to yourself, trying to balance the disappointment of his disappearance with logic. The logical side of you was telling you to stop fawning over a man you had seen maybe four times, while the part of you that was fed way too many love stories wanted to believe that he did have a crush on you. Though, as adults a crush seems like a silly thing to get excited for.

Brushing away thoughts of the dark-haired knight, you turn towards… another dark-haired knight.

“Hello,” You interrupted the boy’s thoughts, “I’m Y/N.”

“Mordred.” The boy gave you a small smile, “I’ve seen some of your work in another kingdom we had to visit a few months back.”

“Oh?” A wave of calm washed over you. You knew how to talk about work and if that’s what Mordred wanted to talk about, then you were more than pleased to oblige. “How’d you like it? Be honest.”

“I’ve never really had an eye for anything like that, but you’re pretty good.” His cheeks tinted pink a little as he spoke. Assuming it had to do with not talking to people very often, you continued on.

“Thank you, I think. I’ll take it as a compliment even if it wasn’t.” Your light laughter filled the space between you and Mordred’s tension began to melt away slightly.

The rest of your dinner was spent in between conversations with Mordred and Gwen. It was a relief to have a few people by your side that you felt at ease with, and, as Merlin eventually joined the three of you, your brain was completely void of a certain knight that had seemed to be your subject of infatuation for the day. Perhaps tomorrow you would have forgotten all about him.

<><><>

The following morning, you awoke to the bright sun pouring in from an open window and the sounds of birds chirping happily in the trees. Had it not been for your wine-induced headache and the incessant clanging of metal that accompanied the sun and the birds, you might have had a truly peaceful lie in. However, that’s not what the gods had planned for you that day.

Rolling out of your (extravagant) bed, you place a thin robe over your nightgown and move towards the window that was somehow opened now. Even though, you were sure it was closed the night before.

Leaning against the rock window frame, you glance down at an open, green arena. It was lined with wooden dummies with armor placed haphazardly on them, and various weapons resting along the fence. Upon further observation, you also noticed a dozen or so men sparring in one section of the grassy area.

They were obviously Knights of Camelot, that much your hungover brain could put together, but why they were up so early and disturbing your sleep was something that could hardly be forgiven. But, standing by the window had let the sun melt across your cheeks, and the warmth that followed it was so welcoming, you couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position.

With a satisfied sigh, you slowly dropped into a chair by the window, lay your head in your arms on the frame, and watch the knights as they did their early morning training. Perhaps you had been too quick to mentally snap at the way they trained first thing. It provided you with entertainment while your face basked in the sun on an early summer’s day.

You had dozed in and out during your morning show. Sometimes waking up just enough to catch a glimpse at a shiny knight win his spar, and other times completely imagining an entirely different world as you once again lost consciousness.

“Y/n!” The voice was distant, and you assumed it was another dream. So, you let the voice lull you back to sleep. Afterall, it was just as warm and smooth as the sun felt dancing upon your skin. It must’ve been a dream.

You heard it again, “Y/n!” The voice just begging you to stay asleep for five more minutes. Just a few more moments before reality came crashing in.

The third time your name was called, however, is what drew you out of your slumber. Because you _knew_ that voice. That wasn’t the sultry sound of a fantasy. That was reality.

Picking your head up from its position on the windowsill, you glanced down where the voice was coming from. There, below you, stood Sir Gwaine. He had on a white cotton shirt that clung to his shoulders and his abdomen with sweat. You could tell that his hair was curling with moisture, and he was heaving from the morning workout.

“Enjoying the show?” He shot up at you, a lazy smile transfixed on his face.

“I was,” You yelled down to him, stifling a yawn, “But it seems it’s all over now.” The rest of the knight were not to be seen, as you assumed they went back to do some knightly duties of some sort. You weren’t really sure what they did during the day whenever they weren’t training.

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh, just fine,” Your voice quipped with sarcasm, “Until these rowdy boys and their metal swords woke me up.”

“I wish I could do something to fix your burden,” He shifted from one leg to the other as he spoke, looking strangely energized for someone who should be ready to drop with exhaustion, “Alas, I am but a simple man with so little control over the king’s schedule.”

“A schedule you don’t seem to follow regularly.” You added.

“What do you mean?”

“I know for a fact you weren’t there first thing this morning when training started,” Your face held a smug smile, happy that you had caught him slacking off and giving you something to tease him about.

“And how would you know that, Lady Y/n? Were you,” He paused to purse his lips, “Were you looking for me?”

Your lazy demeanor had completely vanished. Previously, he was the one at fault. Albeit it was just because he was late to a sparring session, but he was the one under the spotlight. But, as he looked up at you with an innocent pout adorning his face, claiming that you were the one that had their hand in the cookie jar, you wished you had never crawled out of bed.

“I – I was not!” You claimed, but it was too late. “Not looking for you, specifically.”

“Oh?” Gwaine placed his hand on his heart, “Then who were you looking for?”

“I… I wanted to see if Mordred was down there. I think I’m going to sketch out his portrait first today.” You silently praised yourself for a quick (though not smooth) save, “I just happened to notice you were not among the original men I saw.”

You could tell he didn’t believe you; even from twenty feet in the air, you could see the disbelief painted across his face. Though, it didn’t matter as he dropped the subject.

“I’ll let him know you’re looking for him,” He turned around to head back into the castle, before shooting one more phrase your way. “While I like your hair like that, if I were you, I’d check to make sure an animal didn’t nest in it while you were sleeping.”

With a disgruntled squeak, you slam your window shut and rush over to the mirror to check how bad your bed head truly was. It was pretty bad, and you swore you could hear Gwaine cackling from outside.

It took the better part of an hour to detangle and plait your hair, get dressed, and head off in search of Mordred with your sketchbook. It wasn’t an extravagant book: loosely bound with twine and leather, some pages were stained a dark yellow from wear, and it was only half full. But it was a gift and you cherished it deeply.

Just as you had opened your door, you were almost hit in the face with a fist. Basically, throwing yourself back, you look at the person standing in front of your door absolutely horrified.

“I am so sorry,” Mordred gushed, “Gwaine told me you wanted to talk to me. I didn’t realize you were opening your door-“

“It’s okay,” You reassured, letting out a breathy laugh, “I wanted to know if you were free so I could get some sketching done for your portrait.”

“I’m sure I can spare an afternoon.” He grinned.

“Perfect! I just want to get a few angles of your face drawn and planned out so I can see what the best pose for your portrait would be.”

“It sounds like a good plan, where should we go?” Mordred followed you as you strolled out of your room and down the stairs that you learned lead outside.

“Anywhere that has good lighting at this hour,” You skipped down the stairs, excited to get to know more of a Camelot while also learning about Mordred. You’d hoped he would become a friend during your stay here. If anything, your conversations from last night seemed like a good starting point.

“I think I know just the place then,” Mordred gave you a small smile before throwing open a side door and leading you through the courtyard of the palace.

You followed him between a few shops in town and through a bit of shrubbery until he stopped. Using an arm to sweep a tree branch obscuring your view of the spot, Mordred let out a “Here it is.”

You could only say one thing:

“Wow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this part super duper long because I felt so bad for how long I made people wait between part two (which was pretty short to be fair) and now. I'm also trying to get better about making my chapters longer so I write more. I feel like that's a given... anyways Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it? How are we feeling about Gwaine so far?


	4. Secret Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being shown the secret garden that Mordred has considered his haven, Y/n spends a better part of the day talking to the boy and giving him advice whilst they work on her sketches.  
> Afterwards she is introduced to more of the knights.  
> Gwaine takes her breath away once again, and promises to meet her tomorrow for some one on one time - for sketching only, obviously!

“Wow.” The word left your mouth in a breathless gasp. The scene that lay before you was an absolute Eden hidden in the background of a city. The cobblestone path lead to a stone bench which was surrounded by wisteria flowers and hollyhocks. The buildings that bore as a barrier between this secret garden and the blacksmith’s shop were covered in vines of rambling rose. In the middle of the circular garden was a blooming juneberry tree; the petals were the color of cream and falling delicately onto the mossy cobblestone.

“What do you think?” Mordred followed you, ducking under the branch he held. “This is one of my favorite places to go in Camelot. Reminds me of home.”

“If this is what your home looks like I can’t imagine why you would ever leave.” You chuckle, looking back at the young knight. However, his expression has hardened as he gazes into space – remembering something that was obviously not pleasant.

“Well,” You say trying to get him out of his memories, “How about you stand under that tree, and I’ll sit here and start some sketches.”

You picked up your skirt as you walked through the path towards the bench, the fallen petals swirled beneath your feet. You sat down, pulled your sketchbook from your pocket, fetched the charcoal pencil you had shoved in your boot, and got to work. 

“You are a natural model,” You commented after a few minutes of silently sketching.

“It’s because of my knightly composure,” Sir Mordred grins, “Part of our training also includes sitting still and looking pretty.”

“Oh yes, of course,” You smirk, drawing a few quick curls for his hair, “I can’t imagine what the knights would be if it were not for their looks.”

“I would say Gwaine would be utterly distraught. He’d probably go insane if he didn’t have his luxurious locks.” Mordred begins to imitate Sir Gwaine, sweeping imaginary _luscious locks_ over his shoulders. “He’d be absolutely lost without the attention of every maiden in the land.”

While you laughed along to Mordred’s statements you couldn’t help the curiosity that burned in the pit of your stomach.

“Does Sir Gwaine have a lot of admirers?” You ask, keeping your gaze fixed on your second sketch of Mordred, this time trying a different angle. Though, you had a hard time actually making any progress as your attention was elsewhere. 

“I would say he has a decent amount – enough to get into trouble every now and again with visiting royals, anyways.” Sir Mordred chuckles lightly after his statement.

“Oh really?” You let your sketchbook fall in your lap, forgotten. “So, he’s a natural flirt? Or does he often fall in and out of love?”

“I don’t know,” Mordred shrugs, brushing petals from his hair and off his shirt, “Could be a bit of both. If you ask me, though, I think he’s just lonely.”

You nodded along. It made sense, but the idea of a man so obviously cared for by his companions feeling lonely… It seemed more complicated than that. You returned your focus to your sketching, after quickly asking Mordred to change positions slightly.

<><><><>

“Lady y/n?” Mordred asks after a few more moments of silent sketching.

“Hmm?” You respond, only partially listening while you worked on some of his facial features.

“You know what girls like, right?”

“I like to think so – all things considered.” You chuckle, glancing up at the boy. His cheeks had begun to redden slightly, and he kept his gaze fixed at his hands in his lap. “Is there something you wanted to know?”

“It’s just… there’s this girl – this woman.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

“I know she’s going through a tough time and I want to do something to make her feel better.” He admits sheepishly. “She’s been so distant with me lately, and I know I should probably be asking the other knights for this sort of advice, but Percival is quiet and doesn’t talk about personal things, Elyan is too dedicated to being a knight to think about girls, Gwaine is a nonsensical flirt, and it’s honestly a miracle King Arthur managed to woo and marry Queen Guinevere. Then there’s Merlin, but he only offers advice such as, ‘Don’t worry Mordred’ or ‘Be yourself Mordred. Destiny blah blah’.” He mumbles something under his breath after mentioning Merlin, but you aren’t quite able to understand it. Something about _heiress_ or _emeralds_. Something like that.

“Oh,” Is all you manage to say in response.

“I know we’ve only just became acquainted, but I thought I’d get any advice I could. Seeing as you’re a lady and all I figured you would at least have some idea of what to do.”

“Well,” You closed your sketchbook and shoved it back into your pocket. You were pretty much done with your sketches anyways. “I think that it is very noble of you to want to help this young lady through her hard time. How long have you known her?”

“Since I was a boy.” Mordred answers, but doesn’t give anymore information. Though, a backstory would help you come up with ideas, you could understand why he was reluctant to give out his whole life story. Obviously where he grew up was sore subject and he was more than likely embarrassed to talk about girls. He was still just a boy in some respects.

“Everyone likes to see pretty things,” You began, tapping your chin in thought, “I’m sure some flowers would lift her mood. Food is always appreciated in tough times. Maybe bring her some cakes or pastries?”

“She used to love these blackberry tarts from the baker in town,” His eyes lit up with the idea.

“I think bringing her a fresh batch of those should be enough to lift anyone’s spirits.” You concluded with a smile. Mordred jumped up, ready to race off for his new mission. However, he did not leave before bowing to you respectfully – something that was only done out of thanks and not social standing, seeing as you would have to bow to him rather than it being the other way around – and darting though the bushes back into the town.

You chuckled lightly to yourself, remembering your younger days trying to woo the first person you liked. It was a very exciting, yet stressful, time for you. You never knew how to gain their attention, or what would make them like you. It wasn’t until much later that you realized you were being ridiculous, but you live and learn.

Making your way through the bushes, you retreated from the little haven Mordred has shown you and fell into step with the bustling crowd of the market. The sun had begun to cast a golden glow that bounced off the vibrant fabrics and stone walls that lined the streets. Not quite ready to return to your room, you let your intuition guide you, and wandered aimlessly through the town.

As you grew nearer to the palace, the crowds around you had become sparse. You found yourself wandering back towards the training grounds; the very ones that had woken you up at an ungodly hour that same morning. The sound of clanging metal still cut loudly through an otherwise peaceful clearing, and you saw a handful of men in armor practicing. Some were more focused on throwing daggers at the – rather creepy now that you were closer to them – dummies, while others were taking turns sparring with one another.

Among them, you noticed that the king was sparring with the knight with curly hair. Despite spending the better part of the day drawing Sir Mordred, you sat in the grass by the fence and began sketching some action poses of the men. You took extra care to capture the intensity of the king’s gaze as he battled, the gentleness of the giant who was more focused on defense rather than offense, and the constant smirk (yet furrowed brow) that adorned Sir Gwaine’s face as he fought.

You attempted to pay attention to each of the men in King Arthur’s close circle, but of course one kept capturing your focus. That became blatantly obvious as Merlin appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and peered over your shoulder at your work.

“I think you’ve found yourself a muse, Y/n.” His words made you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Merlin!” You gasped, “You can’t sneak up on people like that.”

“I’m sorry,” He laughed, deciding to take a seat in the grass beside you, “I couldn’t help but take a peek.”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to look into another person’s journal?” You ask, feigning a serious expression. “It’s almost a worse crime than murder.”

“I highly doubt that. Plus, I couldn’t help it. You were just staring at your drawings so intently, I wanted to see what had glued your eyes to the page.” He gestured to the sketches in your lap, “I see now it was because you had a very _attractive_ subject.”

You look down at your work, becoming flustered at what he was insinuating. Your pencil had a mind of its own, obviously this was the case, as you would never knowingly fill an entire page of pictures of Sir Gwaine. Some of him laughing, some of him looking at the viewer intensely, another where he was focused on his spar and you could see the fierceness in his eyes. Creativity struck in odd ways, it meant nothing… obviously.

“Well since you’re being nosy anyways,” You thrust your book in his direction in an attempt to take Merlin’s attention away from your darkened cheeks, “Give me your honest opinion, do you think I am capturing their personalities correctly? I haven’t had the opportunity to talk with any of them really.” Sure, you’ve spent a bit of time interacting with Sir Gwaine, but you didn’t really count yearning looks across the room or flirty comments here and there to be enough to form a close bond.

“They look good to me,” He said looking back to you. However, you just raised an eyebrow at him. Obviously, that wasn’t the answer you were looking for, “I mean, they’re better than good – they’re amazing!”

“Thank you. I’m just worried about doing them justice, you know? I don’t even know their names.”

“Well, that’s something I can definitely help you out with,” Merlin grinned and stood up. He offered you a hand, that you promptly took, and helped you up. He then began leading you over to a group of three knights who were taking a break for water.

“Leon, Elyan, Percival,” Merlin addressed them each, “May I formally introduce Lady Y/n.”

You curtsied quickly, the three of them returning with a bow. “It’s a pleasure to have some names to put to your faces.” You laughed.

“The pleasure is all ours, Lady Y/n.” The one who looked like Queen Guinevere, Sir Elyan, responded with a kind smile.

“Is this your first time in Camelot?” The one with curly hair asked after a moment, he was the one Merlin identified as Sir Leon.

“Yes actually,” You played with the hems of your sleeves as you spoke, “I’ve come in and out of the outlying villages of Camelot, but never came close to the heart of it.”

“Well that just means you’ll be able to experience the wonders of the kingdom with a team of guides by your side,” Sir Leon smiled, basically offering himself and the other knights as chaperones for your first adventures in Camelot.

“I appreciate the offer, Sir Leon.” You smiled warmly at the knights, “I’ll have to take one of you up on it. In the meantime, are any of you available tomorrow for an hour or so of sketching?”

“I would be happy to spare a few moments for you, my lady.” A new voice broke into your circle.

You glanced over your shoulder to see that Sir Gwaine was walking up to you. Your cheeks flushed lightly, and you gripped your sketchbook harder – nervous he would be able to tell that nearly two pages were already filled with sketches of him.

“If you’re sure you can find the time,” You eyed him down, “I don’t like it when my clients are late, you know.”

“On my word as a knight,” Gwaine places one hand on his heart, the other raised in the air, “I will not be late. I wouldn’t want to miss a single second that I could spend in your presence.”

You could feel heat flooding to your face and you tried your best to push down your flustered feelings, “As long as you assure me that you will meet me in this very spot tomorrow at noon, I think I can make room in my schedule to get some work done for you.”

You swear you could see Gwaine’s entire face light up like a little kid’s on Christmas, but your moment was cut short as King Arthur called for him. He took your hand, briefly kissing the knuckle, before he retreated to tend to the King. As if they had been caged, a flock of butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach. The effect he had on you was both thrilling and worrisome – you weren’t sure what to make of it.

Merlin and the others had begun their own conversation while you were busy being entranced by Gwaine’s antics. And, though you tried to focus, you could help but glancing back at Sir Gwaine and King Arthur every few moments. Their conversation grows increasingly serious with each glance you send their way. Until you hear Arthur mention something along the lines of, “Go have a look, and keep this quiet.” Your eyes widened, realizing you weren’t meant to be paying that much mind to them, and you tried to tear you attention away.

However, your eyes met Gwaine’s as he was retreating, and he looked like he wanted to say something. He was uncharacteristically stoic, an expression he didn’t even wear when sparring. Instead of coming to you like you thought he would, he shook his head and retreated towards the stables.

You watched his retreating form until he was no longer in sight, then turned back to the group and attempted to rejoin the conversation. Though your mind was constantly elsewhere. 

<><><><>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's been a while hasn't it? I have finally posted something (even though I had zero sleep working on this so forgive any dumb mistakes I made). I think I'm going to make this story a little more angsty than I had originally thought, and things are really about to take off after this part - so buckle in buckaroos things are gonna get wild!  
> Thank you all for reading, and remember if you want to read some of my other stuff or see me update about when things will be posted go follow me on tumblr: https://makeitcanoncowards.tumblr.com/  
> Part five will be posted within the week because I'm so excited things are taking off again.


	5. The Sketch Date - Kind of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So last time Gwaine and the reader agreed to meet up and have an entire afternoon of sketching for Arthur's commissions. This chapter is what happens on the day of the sketching date and the entire week afterwards. Finally there's going to be some one-on-one time with Sir Gwaine.... maybe

There are those of us who may rise with the sunrise. Those people who may have to put on some chainmail and armor and hit each other with swords at stupidly early hours of the morning. Luckily, you were not one of these people. The last time you had to get up before the sun was when you worked on a farm for a bit of spare coin whilst you were a teen. You were happy to put that era of your life far, _far_ behind you. It’s a blessing to sleep in. Yet, much to your dismay, you are once again forced to rise to the sounds of the knights training just below your window.

You flipped onto your stomach and groaned. That constant _ting ting_ ringing through your open window was like a constant nail driving into your eardrums. Not wanting to get up and lose anymore sleep, you attempted to take a spare pillow and drown out the sound with the feathers. It didn’t work. You really only managed to almost suffocate yourself between said pillows. Throwing it off you, and short of breath, you manage to sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes.

“One day I’m going to steal all their weapons,” You mumbled as you slowly pulled yourself from the mattress, “And I’m going to hide them all in my room, which they aren’t allowed to enter,” You had thrown a shawl over your shoulders to mimic the warmth of your duvet, “Then they’ll never be able to train again.”

The idea had brought a small smile to your lips as you pulled the shudders in and locked it with a hook so they wouldn’t open again; assuming they were blowing open during the night and you weren’t just leaving them open. You turned to crawl back into bed but hesitated before you could take a step away from the window. _Should I remind Sir Gwaine that we are to meet at noon for his drawing session?_ You debated with yourself. Surely, he would be training below with the rest of the men. All you had to do was open the window and shout a quick reminder in his direction… No, _no he’ll be on time_. You don’t want to seem too eager to spend time with him. Especially, since you weren’t even eager at all to be with him specifically. You just wanted to hurry up and start applying paint to canvas and really get working. Obviously, you’re just anxious to get to work. That’s it.

Shuffling back over to your bed, you flop down with your arms spread wide; content to fall asleep in that position and not wake until you had to see Sir Gwaine in the field. Just as your eyelids fluttered shut, a rapid knock at your door broke through a soft sleepy haze. You let out a loud whine, but got back up, grabbed your shawl, and staggered to the door.

“Yes?” You opened the door to see Merlin taking a tray of breakfast from a very confused maid.

“Brought you breakfast!” Merlin’s smile was suspiciously large, and he looked like he was sweating a bit.

“That’s kind of you, Merlin?” Your voice raised to make your statement sound more like a question. You carefully took the tray from his hands. You expected him to leave, but he kept glancing behind you into your room and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Would you like to come in?” You asked, opening the door a little wider.

“Oh no I couldn’t-“ He interrupted his own statement by stepping past you and into your room. You set the tray down on the small dining table and turned to Merlin. Placing your hands on your hips, you watch as he starts trying to subtly look beneath your bed, behind the drapes, glancing over your vanity, and towards your wardrobe.

“Looking for something?” You ask after his demeanor became increasingly desperate.

“Yes- I mean, no… Technically yes?” He ran a hand over his hair, promptly flattening what shape it used to have. “I’ve lost something.”

“And you believe it would be in my chambers?” You removed your hands from your hips and crossed them over your chest. He stood there gaping at you for a moment, like he was trying to figure out what to say next.

“It’s just that he-“ Merlin began after taking the time to decide on his next few words.

“He?” You interrupted. “Have you lost a who or a what?”

“Uh- Yes.” Merlin made a show of looking under your bed. You tilted your head, trying to get a look under there as well. However, as you had begun to approach him, he threw himself back upright and his quick action made you jump away. “Right, seems it’s not here, thanks for your help, Y/n!”

And with that, he fled past you and out of the bedroom. You watched his retreat down the corridor, and the moment he looked back to see if you were still there. His glance back in your direction caused him to smack into a couple of servants hulling in bags of flour for the kitchen at full force. Poor things dropped the bags and the flour went everywhere. Though, a good portion of it somehow coated Merlin’s face and tunic.

You took a few steps out the door – still in your nightgown and shawl, mind you – and hastily made your way to the catastrophe you witnessed. The odd stares you received didn’t deter you from your mission, nor did the way the servants had stopped scooping up flour upon your arrival. You knelt beside them; a chill struck your knees as they met the stone floor, but you didn’t think anything out of the ordinary of it.

“Lady Y/n?” A gruff voice coughed from behind you, breaking through a wall of silence between you and those watching you.

“Hm?” You glanced back to see Sir Leon look away from you with a bright blush adorning his cheeks. “I just saw the accident and thought I should help. It’s not inappropriate is it?”

“No! It’s very… er kind of you to help clean up Merlin’s mess,” Sir Leon continued, his gaze now towards the ceiling, “I just think maybe you’d like to do it after you get dressed.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked down at the sheer cotton fabric that was almost nearly see-through. The only thing keeping your dignity was the shawl you grabbed when you answered the door. “Oh…” You looked up with wide eyes, and locked gazes with Merlin who had also just realized what was going on. He was too focused on finding whatever it was he was looking for earlier to even notice that you technically weren’t decent.

“Here.” Leon took off his cape and placed it over your shoulders. You took the sides and used it to cover the rest of your body.

“Thank you,” You bowed your head, standing up. “I will bid you all farewell.”

“Would you like me to escort you back to your room?” Sir Leon asked, politely. You could tell he wasn’t just asking to attempt anything suggesting promiscuity. His offer was one of genuine kindness.

“Yes, I’ll return your cape when we get to my door.” You nodded, and the two of you set off for the wooden door that was only about five yards away. Those fifteen feet felt like they took every bit of an hour to reach. Your face was flaming with embarrassment, and you didn’t know what to say the entire walk back.

“Thank you, Sir Leon,” You gave him a small smile when you reached the door and opened it a crack. “While it has been deeply bruised, I do think you’ve saved my ego from a fatal blow.”

“I have many skills, finding damsels in distress seems to be one of them.” He returned your smile, and after a second added, “I don’t think that’s anything worse than what Merlin’s done – or even the King for that matter.”

“Oh yeah?”

“The King was once braying like a donkey for nearly a week. Just, every now and then, would go _hee-haw_!” Leon attempts to mimic the sound of a donkey. His laughter was boisterous and infectious, you couldn’t help but join in. The story caused the mood to immediately begin shifting between you. It was no longer an embarrassing or compromising situation. It was a laugh among friends. “He told us to never mention it again. Merlin likes to bring it up at least once every other week.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” You smiled and slowly enter your room and hide behind your door. You slipped the cape off your shoulders, and still hiding your body behind the wood, handed the red linen back to him. “I really appreciate your help back there. I don’t know if I would have noticed for the rest of the day.”

“I’m sure somebody would remind you,” He chuckled, fastening his cape back to his armor. “Though you may not have been as lucky to have a Knight of Camelot to be the one to do it. I’m surprised Merlin didn’t think to say anything to you. I saw him leave your room in a hurry.”

“Seems he’s too preoccupied looking for something… or someone.”

“Sounds like Merlin. He’s always losing things or searching for things for Arthur.”

“So, he’s always that jumpy and secretive?’ You asked, incredulously, “That doesn’t seem weird at all to you?”

“He’s been like that since we met.” Leon shrugs, “I do have to go, though, Lady Y/n. I’ve got to be yet another person searching for something for our glorious king. Wish I knew where that bloody fool went.” The last part was muttered with a dark tone you had yet to hear from the knights around here. Either they’re very good at acting, or the situation they were getting themselves into was very hush-hush. _A secret war?_ You contemplated.

“Thank you again, Sir Leon. I’ll be sure to return the favor. Just let me know if you want to borrow a gown anytime soon.”

Leon let out a loud laugh, the dark shadow over his face completely disappearing, “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to.”

You smiled at him, before waving and shutting the door lightly. Your escapade had lasted until a little past 10am, which meant you had under two hours to eat and get ready to spend an entire afternoon just admiring Sir Gwaine. _No not admiring – analyzing, sketching. Not admiring._

You sat down at table with the tray of fruits and bread in front of you. You ate slowly, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to what Sir Leon had admitted at your door: “Searching for something for our glorious king,” He’d said. What could that have been? A chalice made of gold? A criminal? A druid community? An old foe? Maybe it was your imagination running away, grasping for some sort of adventure to hear about or be a part of. _He’s a knight,_ you reminded yourself. _They do things like that everyday for a king. It’s nothing new._ Though, with all the internal reasoning in the world, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop wondering what it is that needed to be found.

After finishing breakfast, you decided against wearing your brown dress for the fourth day in a row. You had brought the red gown for special occasions (like the banquet), and it seemed that today was as good as any other day for it. At the very least, so you could get the former dress washed for tomorrow.

You slipped the red gown over your head and smoothed out the skirt as it fell over your legs. Using a gold-colored ribbon, that was usually reserved for intricate hairdos, you tied it around your waist to make the gown look a little different than how it had on your first day in the kingdom. A sliver-like detail that wouldn’t be noticed by anyone other than yourself, but a part of you hoped that maybe _someone_ would mention it. You tamed your hair once again, plaiting parts of it to add some organization to your style. It took a while to get it exactly how you wanted it, but it looked _good_ once you got it there. After completing that part of your look, you grabbed your vial of honeysuckle cologne and dabbed some on your neck and wrists. You were finally ready for a simple afternoon.

You descended down the staircase by your room, passing the town physician’s quarters on your way, and started heading towards the spot that you told Sir Gwaine to meet you at. You had just arrived as the bell rang to signify that it was noon. Right on time.

Inadvertently, you kept glancing around the people passing every so often to see if you could catch a glimpse of your subject. You began tapping on the sketchbook in your hands impatiently and smoothing out the skirt of your dress every five minutes. _Where the hell is he?_

<><><><>

An hour had passed from the time you were supposed to meet, and you had yet to move from your spot. If he was late, then you wanted to be there to chastise him for making you wait. Afterall, he gave you his word that he would show up. Plus, you spent all this time perfecting your appearance. It wasn’t just for him, but it would be nice to be acknowledged. You would give him another hour. At two o’clock you were done waiting. At least, that’s what you told yourself. By three, you’d decided enough was enough. Three hours. He made you wait three hours and still never showed. _What an absolute ass!_

You grabbed your book from the dirt, brushed the grass and hay from your gown, and stormed towards the castle. Then, at least, you could grab someone else to work with and actually get something done.

“Lady Y/n?” Queen Guinevere asked with concern as you rushed past her towards the stairs to your quarters. “Is everything alright?”

“Not really, no,” You sighed. You let the tension roll from your shoulder as you exhaled and turned to the queen. “I was supposed to meet with someone today to work on some sketching, but they never showed. It was a waste of a day. I could have been doing something else; I’m so sorry, too, I feel as though I don’t deserve your payment seeing as I just spent my entire afternoon sitting in some dirt waiting for a boy!”

“You can’t control another person’s actions. It’s not your fault he didn’t show up today.” Gwen rested a hand on your shoulder and gave it a small squeeze for comfort, “Believe me, it’s not a waste of a day to just sit around anyways. Sometimes we need that.”

“I suppose… I just haven’t even begun putting the oil paint to the canvas yet and I’ve been here nearly five days.” You run a hand through your hair, making the braids start to frizz up, “I don’t want to seem like a waste of money or resources.”

“Darling you’re not. Plus, if you’re that worried about it,” Gwen held her arm out for you to take (which you did), “We can get started on my portrait right now. I’ve got the entire evening free. And after that, maybe you can join me for dinner.”

“I’d love to!”

“Splendid, let’s get to work.”

The two of you spent the remainder of the day in each other’s company. You began working on the smaller painting of Gwen that was commissioned of you. King Arthur wanted a small one of just his wife to carry with him on longer expeditions. It was a really cute thought, but you had to cut some canvas small enough to keep in a saddle bag or pocket. Which also meant the details would have to be done with a smaller brush as well – not impossible. Just a bit of a hassle.

“It looks lovely so far, Y/n.” Gwen peaked over the easel to glimpse at your work. “I especially like the soulless black abysses I have for eyes.”

“The eyes will come later,” You laugh with her, “You have to give me a little time, you know. I’m the _arteest_ here! Trust me.”

“Mhm, surrrre.” Gwen drawled with a glint in her eyes. It was the first time you had seen her without her Queenly composure, and you were really enjoying how friendly it felt. You didn’t have a lot of friends while you were traveling, but it was nice to find another in the queen of Camelot.

Eventually, the two of you ate dinner in her chambers. Neither one of you wanting to bother to get changed and head downstairs for it to just be the two of you at the large table meant for a big group. Apparently, King Arthur was called away on some quick mission and wouldn’t be back for an unknown amount of time. Gwen didn’t say much about it, but she didn’t seem worried so neither were you.

“What was your life like before Camelot?” Gwen asked before she took a bite of her dinner.

“It wasn’t too bad,” You shrugged, tearing off a small piece of bread. “I moved around a lot and sent any money I could back to my family. I mostly lived off exchanging smaller works for food and shelter and used paying gigs to get some supplies and feed the folks at home.”

“Sounds difficult, but noble of you.”

“I wanted to travel anyways. Painting got me out of this small village where I was destined to become a farmer’s wife. Not that there’s anything wrong with that lifestyle, but it wasn’t something I was looking forward to.” You took a sip of your wine, “I’m no good at waking up early anyways. Farmers get up at the crack of dawn… couldn’t be me.”

“Completely understandable,” Gwen smiled, “I don’t think I’ve gotten up before ten in the morning since marrying Arthur. He really enjoys his beauty sleep.”

“I’m sure having a servant as diligent as Merlin makes sleeping in without any worries easy then?”

“Oh gods no. Merlin’s talent is pushing Arthur’s buttons!” She laughed and wiped her mouth daintily with a cloth, “But believe me, they would be lost without each other.”

“Speaking on Merlin,” You began, “Does he ever act strangely and start snooping through your rooms for some mysterious reason?”

“Frequently.”

“And no one finds that odd?”

“It’s _Merlin_.” Gwen shrugged, “We’ve come to expect it.”

You furrowed your brow in thought. Seems as though you were the only one in Camelot that found is strange that a servant was just running amuck causing chaos for some unknown reason. But okay…

<><><><>

It had been three days. Three days since you were supposed to meet up with Sir Gwaine for some work on his portrait, two days since you finished the small painting of the queen for King Arthur, and one day since you decided you were never going to speak to Gwaine again. If he didn’t want to see you then fine, so be it.

When you woke up the day after your evening with Guinevere, you were once again listening to the clanging metal from sparring knights outside. You stomped over to the open window and peered down, ready to glare at Gwaine from a distance, but he wasn’t there. Neither was the King or Sir Leon, but you didn’t really notice that as much. The day after that, you awoke in the very same way. Much the same, you stormed to the window ready to punish the knight for ignoring you, but he wasn’t there again. Then, yesterday, your alarm was the swords clashing against each other. You slowly made your way to the window; curious to see if he was going to be there. Again, he was not. _He’s avoiding me_ , you thought bitterly after not seeing him at all – not even in passing – for those three days.

If he didn’t want to see you then fine, he wouldn’t. You began avoiding places you thought he might be, too. That way you could ignore him even further and not be tempted to tear him a new one for making you feel like a fool before. The following days after you decided to completely reject the existence of a certain knight-who-shall-not-be-named were spent working on Mordrid’s portrait and getting started on a few others.

It was a peaceful week, but a part of you missed the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach when you would catch Sir Gwaine’s eyes from across the room. You missed the feeling of sweaty palms whenever he would come speak to you. Or the way your entire face heat up when he would say something even a little flirtatiously. As much as you refused to admit it, you missed looking forward to catching him in unexpected places – like that time in the armory after you had just met. It wasn’t like you were star-crossed lovers or anything, but you knew there was at least a friendship in the making. _So, what had gone wrong?_

A week since the last time you saw Sir Gwaine, and you were comfortable in your new routine. On that seventh night, though, something felt off. There was a pit in your stomach, and you didn’t understand why. All you knew that it kept you from sleeping comfortably in your bed. The sheets were too hot, the blanket was too itchy, your body felt as though it needed to run a thousand miles. Something had kept you from sleeping that night. You threw the covers off yourself and grabbed a cloak that Gwen had lent you off the wardrobe door. You thought that, maybe, the cool night air would do you some good. You figured a walk through the main square was the best way to calm your anxieties.

As you approached an open hallway, though, you noticed a few horsemen barreling towards the palace steps. Their forms were dark, but two of them sat upright on either side of the third, who looked to be slumped over and possibly injured. A fourth followed closely behind, his shoulders sagging but he didn’t look nearly as poor as the man in the middle seemed to be.

“Somebody wake Gaius! We need help!” A loud voice boomed to the guards standing at the entrance.

“I’ll get him.” The voice belonged to Merlin; he was the fourth man that arrived. He hopped off his horse while the other two pulled the injured one out of the saddle. Once they carried them into the light, you were able to see what was happening. Sir Leon and King Arthur were carrying a dirty, bloody Gwaine up the palace steps and through the doors.

Shock wracked through your body and you had to grab onto a stone pillar for support. Your vision was spotty with black blobs clouding up the corners. As you shut your eyes tightly, a few tears leaked onto your cheeks. You brushed them away and took a few deep breaths to steady yourself. Your head felt light, but your vision was clear again. There was a constant shake to your body as you pushed off the pillar, but you needed to go see if they needed help. Afterall, they could be hurt as well, and there was only one physician.

You ran through the open area, back into the castle, and down the steps to where you saw the physician’s quarters from a few days prior. When you reached the area, the door was already ajar, and you took a small step in.

Everyone’s back was to you, focusing on the man lying on the table with blood and mud covering his armor and his cape. You forced yourself to take a few more steps where you saw just how pale Gwaine was. His cheeks held no blush, and his lips were practically the same shade of white as his skin. He looked like a corpse.

“Is he going to be alright?” Your voice came out, though you didn’t realize it was you speaking.

Gaius looked at you for a second before locking eyes with Merlin. He jerked his head in your direction and Merlin took that as his cue to block your view of the body.

“Y/n, you may not want to see this.” He prodded, holding his arms out so you couldn’t look around him.

“What happened?” You asked, ignoring his not-so-subtle attempt to get you to leave.

“He was ambushed by some bandits.” King Arthur approached you, leaving Gwaine’s side. “He was on a solo quest for me, but he was unprepared for an attack that large.”

You nodded, then darted past the two of them to stand beside Gaius, “Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked. Gaius looked between Merlin and the king; both shrugged. You didn’t know if that meant ‘let her do what she wants’ or ‘I don’t think she can do anything’. Either way you weren’t leaving. “I can tend to some minor injuries.” You offered. “I do have a bit of minor aid knowledge.”

“Check Arthur and Leon for any injuries that might need cleaned up.” Gaius said after a few moments of consideration, “Merlin, fetch me some annatto seed for Gwaine’s fever.”

You waved the other two men towards a bench along the wall so you could get do a quick look at their own scrapes and cuts. You turned and grabbed some wine from a shelf littered with dozens of bottles and jars full of miscellaneous ingredients and applied it to a cloth. Arthur sat in front of you; his armor now stripped off and he was left in his tunic and trousers. He looked much more ordinary without his cape and chainmail.

“Just a scratch on my shoulder,” He adjusted the collar of his shirt so you could see the irritated red skin and bleeding gash. It was about ten inches in length but only a few centimeters deep. Not bad enough to need stitches, but deep enough to leave a light scar.

“This might sting a bit,” You warned. “But other than that, I think you’ll live.”

He nodded, and you took this as your cue to press the rag to his shoulder. He winced as you started dabbing it into the tender flesh. You quickly exchanged the wine-soaked cloth for one with water. After that, you wrapped it with a fresh bandage and returned his tunic to its rightful place across his breast.

“I think you should go see your wife now,” You suggested as he stood to let Leon sit before you. “I know that she’s missed you while you were away.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” King Arthur pressed a hand to your bicep. You bowed your head at him in response, and he returned the bow before he left. It shocked you at firs. Royalty – especially kings – weren’t supposed to bow back to those who are below them. Arthur was treating you like an equal in that moment, and it was a gesture that made your heart swell.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Sir Leon.” You turned to the knight who still had all his chain mail and armor on. “I’m going to need you to remove that.” Leon looked at you with wide eyes for a moment. You cocked your eyebrow and gestured to the armor. He flushed bright red when he realized what you meant, and quickly began removing the metal coverings.

“It’s just a puncture wound,” He declared. You noticed he was favoring his left arm and not moving it much while he was getting undressed.

“Do you need help?” You asked as he struggled to lift his arm to get the chainmail shirt off.

“Please.”

You stood up and carefully pulled the metal from his form. He hissed in pain when your hand jerked in the wrong way, and you froze. You waited for his signal to continue. When we nodded again, you returned to trying to maneuver the heavy material over his head and his wounded arm. Once the chainmail was out of the way, you saw that the entire front of his shirt was soaked with blood.

“Sir Leon what happened?!” You gasped, using a dagger from a nearby table to cut the middle of his shirt. _It was ruined anyways_ , you told yourself, _I’ll buy him another one with my savings_. You peeled the sides open like a jacket and took the tunic off him.

“Stray archer,” He shrugged, but grit his teeth at the movement, “Shot me with an arrow when he saw us approaching.” You shook your head and looked at the purple-ish, bruising area of skin surrounding the torn flesh from the arrow.

“You pulled it out instead of waiting for some medical help?” You noted.

“We didn’t have time to worry about me,” Leon defended, “Gwaine was lying in a pool of his own blood. A little arrow wasn’t my first priority.”

“This little arrow wound needs stitches,” You said kindly, “Let me go grab some supplies. Use this to start cleaning up around it-“ You handed him the wet cloth and a bowl of water. He took them from your hands softly and worked on wiping away the dirt, grime, and blood.

Walking around Merlin and Gaius, you had to work to keep your eyes from straying towards Gwaine again. You knew that if you saw his face devoid of all color and warmth, you wouldn’t be able to focus on fixing Leon up. You’d run to Gwaine’s side and demand that he woke up. You didn’t want to see what those bandits had done to him. A lone man, even if he was a knight, was an easy target for a big group. That was a lot of swords ready to cut away what only one was protecting.

You shielded your eyes when you walked past the three of them after you grabbed a needle and thread. You briskly walked towards Leon and sat down on the stool in front of him. “Are you ready?” You asked, holding up the two supplies.

“He’ll survive, you know.” Leon said, ignoring your question.

“What?”

“Gwaine. He’ll live. He made it to Merlin and Gaius. The hard part was getting him here alive, but now that he’s here he’ll be fine.” Leon smiled at you. You chewed on your lip trying to hold back tears. You blinked back the ones that tried to escape and used the wine-soaked cloth to disinfect the arrow hole.

“I’ve been furious with him this whole time,” You whispered.

“You didn’t know.”

“I thought he was avoiding me,” You choked a little bit on your words, “I thought he was being an ass and trying to let me down gently by disappearing.”

Leon listened to you with a look of sympathy.

“I was so mad at him, I refused to go anywhere near places I thought he would be.”

“Arthur sent him on a solo mission, he wasn’t supposed to be gone that long.” Leon reasoned. You didn’t answer and shook your head, as if that would shake away the guilt you felt.

“I can’t think about it right now,” You decided. With one last sniff, you began wiping your tears away with the back of your hands. “I need to sew you back up so you stop bleeding on my nightgown.”

Leon looked at you incredulously, “What you didn’t change for a whole week? I think the last time I saw you you were in that thing.”

You giggled, grabbing needle so you can do sutures. You began closing the opening the arrow left and tried to be gentle as you tugged on the flesh. Despite the quiet hisses, Leon never asked you to stop. He let you continue the work quietly. He let out a short breath, though, when you secured the last stitch.

“Keep it bandaged and clean,” You reminded while you wrapped the area right below his left shoulder, “Then come see Gaius in a few days to make sure I didn’t do something wrong.” Leon gulped with the last few words but noticed the way your eyes were twinkling with humor. He let it slide but was taking mental notes to definitely come see Gaius in the next day just to be sure.

He grabbed his armor and chainmail, still shirtless and covered with blood that was really only smeared around on his torso. He took a step forward but thought about it for a second and turned back to you. “Stay with him, will you? I think he’d appreciate someone like you looking over him.”

You were speechless for a second but agreed. You didn’t plan on leaving Gaius’s chambers at all, the thought never occurred to you. Though, you realized it was time to help care for the man you had been “avoiding” for a week.

You turned towards the two men leaning over Gwaine and saw Merlin glance at the door that Leon had just exited. Merlin, without taking a second to spare a glance anywhere else around the room, pressed a had to Gwaine’s forehead and another over the long gash across his abdomen. He closed his eyes, ducked his head, and began muttering words in a language you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t until he lifted his chin and opened his eyes that you realized what was happening.

Merlin’s eyes flashed with a dazzling golden light, and suddenly the blush of life began returning to Gwaine’s features. _Merlin is using magic to heal his friend. Merlin is using magic in a land where magic was still outlawed. Merlin is a wizard._ Your mind was reeling at a thousand miles a second, and you dropped the bowl of bloodied water on the floor in front of you.

“Y/n-“ Merlin gasped. “Y/n whatever you think you saw, you didn’t.”

“I- you- MERLIN?!” You stumbled over your words, not really able to formulate a sentence.

Everyone was looking back and forth between each other in silent shock. Merlin looked between Gaius and you. He was silently begging Gaius to help him come up with a lie and was looking to you to gauge your reaction. Gaius was looking at Merlin like he was an idiot while looking at you like he was waiting for you to run out and tell their secret. You – on the other hand – were looking between both of them with complete and utter disbelief.

You were deciding what to say in order to let them know you weren’t going to run off and tell the courts, but your thought was interrupted by a weak cough coming from the man who was previously abandoned on the table.

“Gwaine!” You gasped and rushed to his side by Merlin.

“Y-Y/n?” He was able to mutter before his eyes fluttered and he lost consciousness again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been working on this for a few weeks, wanting to start making my chapters longer and better quality. I was going to make it longer but figured I stopped in a good spot.   
> What did you guys think? I think this story is going to be a bit more angsty than I originally planned >:) Do you buy the story that Gwaine was just attacked by bandits?


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